


Synesthesia

by WalkingonFirex



Series: Feeling [2]
Category: Smosh
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Bottom Ian, Dubious Consent, Emotional Abuse, F/M, Gay Sex, Homosexual slang, Ianthony - Freeform, M/M, Self-Harm, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Anthony, dubcon, sucide attempts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 07:32:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5197553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkingonFirex/pseuds/WalkingonFirex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian makes Anthony feel things he can't comprehend.</p><p>or</p><p>Anthony's pov of Anesthesia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Synesthesia

**Author's Note:**

> This is Anthony’s POV of my fanfiction, Anesthesia. I suppose it’s possible to read this one before the other one, but I’d highly suggest reading Anesthesia first, just so that Ian’s parts make more sense. The story is set in the past. It is set pre-Kalanthony break up and ends post-Kalanthony break up. Also, this story has major trigger warnings, so be aware. Triggers include suicidal thoughts and attempts, self-harm, some sexual situations, some very, very, VERY slight non-con, and negative homosexual slang. This one is also much more smutty than the first. You’ve been warned. And just like the first one, it is a monster and I have no idea how it happened. 
> 
> Also, it kind of portrays Anthony in a negative manner and I don’t want to offend anyone or make it out like Anthony is a horrible person, because he isn’t. He’s wonderful and caring and I love him so much. In no way do I dislike him. In fact, it is the exact opposite. This is just a fanfiction. :P

This is Anthony’s POV of my fanfiction, _Anesthesia_. I suppose it’s possible to read this one before the other one, but I’d highly suggest reading _Anesthesia_ first, just so that Ian’s parts make more sense. The story is set in the past. It is set pre-Kalanthony break up and ends post-Kalanthony break up. Also, this story has major trigger warnings, so be aware. Triggers include suicidal thoughts and attempts, self-harm, some sexual situations, some very, very, VERY slight non-con, and negative homosexual slang. This one is also much more smutty than the first. You’ve been warned. And just like the first one, it is a monster and I have no idea how it happened. 

Also, it kind of portrays Anthony in a negative manner and I don’t want to offend anyone or make it out like Anthony is a horrible person, because he isn’t. He’s wonderful and caring and I love him so much. In no way do I dislike him. In fact, it is the exact opposite. This is just a fanfiction. :P

 

Anthony has never once in his entire life believed himself to be gay. He’s always liked women way too much: their hair, their eyes, their breasts and hips, their voices, and lips. However, never in his life has he ever come close to feeling for a woman what Ian makes him feel. He doesn’t get it, he doesn’t _want_ to, but it’s always been there. Not Kalel, not any past girlfriends and one night stands that he may have had, _no one_ has compared to Ian and this infuriates Anthony. He doesn’t understand what it is about Ian that has him so hooked, so impossibly _gripped_. 

And he knows that Ian is hopelessly in love with him and absolutely devoted to him. He’s known this since they were teenagers because obviously one does not look at their best friend the way Ian does without some kind of powerful feelings. He’s also known since high school that he can get away with pretty much _anything_ when it comes to Ian because he is so utterly loyal to Anthony. He’s gone through most of his life looking like a complete narcissist on the outside, when really he’s a scared, insecure little boy on the inside. 

He doesn’t know why Ian puts him on this giant pedestal, but he does know that it comes to his advantage when he’s drunk or lonely or just horny because Ian will always come when he calls. 

*

Like tonight, after they’ve filmed a video and it’s time for Ian to go back to his house and for Anthony to go to bed. Except, none of these are going to happen because Anthony’s spent twelve hours with Ian. Ian, who has worn a beautiful indigo t-shirt and dark, tight, and low-slung jeans and Anthony’s been going crazy, waiting for them to be alone. He’s waited all day to rip those jeans right off of Ian’s legs. 

After they’ve filmed something or anytime that they’re alone, Ian is always quiet and on edge, eager to leave before Anthony can sink his teeth into him. Anthony doesn’t blame him. 

When Anthony leaves the bathroom, he notices that Ian’s shrugging into his jacket and has his hand on the doorknob, longing to make his great escape. But he won’t let him leave. Not a chance in hell. 

“You headin’ out?” he asks, knowing damn well that Ian is.

Ian stays still, his back to Anthony. He stays completely rigid.

Anthony steps forward, digging his palms into Ian’s shoulders. “You can stay, you know.” He then ghosts a kiss to the side of Ian’s neck, instantly feeling blood rush to his lower region. 

He feels Ian shiver under his grasp and he smiles wickedly. He can already tell how much Ian wants him, _needs_ him, and it’s so delicious and great and he just can’t _wait_ to fuck him. 

“W-well, I should really get b-back to Daisy,” Ian gasps and Anthony knows he’s trying his best to fight it. 

But Anthony knows every little trick in the book. He has Ian fully under his control, after all. He breathes out a little too much and his sigh is hot against Ian’s neck. “Come on, Ian. Why don’t you just stay for the night? I’m only in Sacramento for a couple days.” 

At this, Ian tries his best to wriggle away and this doesn’t surprise Anthony. They’ve been through this many, many times. “I-I’ll see you tomorrow, Ant,” Ian stammers, squirming so much that Anthony let’s go. He almost smiles as Ian jerks away from him. 

Before Ian can get too far, Anthony catches his wrist and grips it tightly. “Come on, Ian,” he says, spinning Ian around so that he must look at him. Anthony stares into Ian’s eyes, doing his best to show Ian how dilated his pupils are, how much he _wants_ him. 

“I want you to stay with me,” he orders, and Ian slightly nods, shutting his eyes in defeat. 

Anthony smirks and surges forward, quickly capturing Ian’s mouth with his own. Immediately, he interlocked his own tongue with Ian’s and put a hand on either side of Ian’s face to bring him closer. Ian’s hands slowly made their way to the curve of Anthony back and he let out a small breath of contentment.

This was nice and all, but Anthony didn’t feel like playing around tonight. 

He drops his hands from Ian’s cheeks and grabs him by the shoulders harshly, pulling his mouth away from Ian’s for a moment, long enough for his smaller lover to yelp at the sensation. He digs his fingers into Ian’s skin before shoving him aggressively against the ecru paneled walls. Anthony jerks forward, grounding his hips down against Ian’s. He wants him to feel how hard he was, but even more than that, he wants to punish him for making him feel that way _all of the Goddamn time_. 

Anthony breaks the kiss again to bite and suck furiously at Ian’s neck. His best friend would have a myriad amount of hickeys and bruises on his flesh in the morning. People would slyly ask questions, ask Ian who his new beau was, and Ian would have to blush and make up some stupid excuse. Anthony wants him to. He wanted Ian to be embarrassed and ashamed, but even more so, he wanted him marked. He wants Ian to know that he is _his_ and he can’t just get away from it. 

Ian moans audibly and tosses his head back. Anthony gets so hard that he wants to _scream_ , not only from pleasure but from anger, as well. Fucking hell, Ian is so _hot_ and beautiful and it doesn't do anything but make Anthony crazy. Absolutely batshit crazy. 

He pulls away for a moment to look down at Ian, his eyes clenched shut, his mouth ajar, lips pink and swollen, cheeks flushed berry red, bowl hair already disheveled. _Fucking beautiful_. 

He takes a deep breath before tilting his head slightly to the side, motioning for Ian to follow him to his bedroom.

Anthony races into the bedroom before Ian, knowing full well that there is no way that Ian could leave without being sated first. Not now, after Anthony’s touched him and kissed him. He knows that Ian loves him. He loves him _so_ much. But that doesn’t matter to Anthony. 

He sheds his shirt from his body and lets it drop to the floor just as Ian comes in. Anthony notices Ian’s pupils have gotten large with lust and that he is staring at his chest and torso with a lascivious expression locked on his face. He’s biting his lip and Anthony could not be more pleased. He doesn’t say anything as he walks over to Ian and wraps his arms around Ian’s waist. Ian knows the drill by now, and he jumps. Anthony catches him, his hands gripping Ian’s ass, and he pulls him into another long, deep kiss before setting him down gently onto his bed. 

Anthony doesn’t say anything as he watches as Ian yanks his shirt off of his head and this time, Ian is the one to bring Anthony’s face back down to his, to kiss him again. As he kissed him, Anthony twisted his tongue, tasting and almost memorizing every nook and cranny of Ian’s mouth. 

Suddenly, Anthony pulls away and goes to work on unbuttoning his own jeans. Once that is done and they are unzipped, his whips them and his boxers off in one, short, glorious stride and looks down at Ian, giving him a cocky smirk. 

As he usually does, Ian blushes as his eyes drift lazily down to Anthony’s cock. He lowers his head and is about to take it into his mouth before Anthony changes his mind and shoves Ian down. 

“Turn around,” Anthony grunts. 

Ian obeys and lays flat on his stomach, ass up and head face down in the pillow. Anthony presses a string of kisses down Ian’s back and he can very faintly hear a soft moan, muffled by the pillows. He stops for a moment, sitting up and reaching for a bottle of lube in the top drawer of his dresser. He pops the cap and rubs a few drops in between his fingers before sliding it onto his dick. He and Ian have had sex enough for him to know that Ian’s loose enough (well, that and he’s so aroused that he doesn’t know how much longer he can wait), so he doesn’t hesitate before thrusting deep inside of his lover. 

Ian cries out and thrusts back up to meet him and yet again, Anthony is totally appalled and enthralled at the consuming, addicting sensation that Ian gives him. He breathes out quickly and drops his head to Ian’s neck, kissing and nipping at the skin there. He rocks his hips back and forth, back and forth, and lets out a grunt from deep in his throat. 

“F-fuck,” he whispers as he speeds up. He presses his fingernails into Ian’s hips, digging deeper and deeper into his skin. Anthony doesn’t stop when he feels blood rushing onto his fingertips and instead, pulls all of the way out of Ian, before slamming way back in. 

“A-Anthony!” Ian exclaims, gripping the sheets beneath him. Anthony isn’t sure if Ian is crying out due to pleasure, pain, or a delicious combination of the two, but he’s nowhere near complaining. 

Anthony knows he isn’t going to last much longer so he picks up his pace and tilts his lips down to Ian’s ear. “Come, Ian. Come for _me_.” 

Just like that, Ian comes undone, throwing his head back and crying out, tears in his eyes. “Anthony!” he screams again. 

With a loud grunt, Anthony comes, too. He wastes no time pulling out of Ian and turning completely away from him. He doesn’t say good night, he doesn’t say thank you. He’s spent and lightheaded and if he thinks about what just happened _again_ , he might actually have to face it. 

…

Days later, he is back in Los Angeles with Kalel. They’ve decided to have a late lunch at the new vegan diner downtown. He orders a normal veggie burger and a glass of water. Kalel orders some type of salad that he’s yet to figure out. They sit themselves in a table for two in a corner of the room. She’s talking about school and the cats and how WULAS is doing. He’s only half listening and he feels bad about that, but he has other things on his mind. 

Especially when Mari and Peter waltz in with Ian and another guy in tow. The guy’s tall and is in preppy attire. His hair and eyes are both brown and Ian is laughing with him, tilting his head to the side and touching his arm. 

Anthony is instantly pissed. 

He puts his head down and chews violently on his burger, completely ignoring Kalel’s banter and doing his best to distract himself from Ian and his new plaything. 

“Hey,” Kalel says, waking Anthony from his fog. “Isn’t that Ian? And Peter and Mari?” 

He pretends he hasn’t noticed yet. “Y-yeah, I think it is.” 

Before he can stop her, of fucking course she calls them over and has a waiter push some tables together so that the six of them can sit together. Ian’s little boyfriend introduces himself as Brian. He works for a record company and knows a lot of bands that Ian loves and can get all of them backstage passes to a lot of classes. Kalel is impressed that Brian is a vegetarian. Anthony can’t help but roll his eyes. Mari tells Anthony how much Brian loves Nintendo games. Anthony can only smile stiffly and nod. He doesn’t give a _fuck_ about this guy or his diet or interests. He just wants to throw his water on him and then _set him on fire_. 

A small, niggling voice in the back of his mind is screaming at him as to why he wants to do so, but he ignores it because it’s ridiculous. In reality, Brian is just annoying as fuck and needs to get out of his — and Ian’s — lives. 

Finally, Brian the bitch excuses himself and goes to the restroom, much to Anthony’s relief. “Thank fuck he’s gone,” he doesn’t exactly whisper to Kalel. 

She raises an eyebrow. “Anthony, please, be nice.” She shoots Ian an apologetic glance. 

Ian’s eyes grow dark and he looks away, absentmindedly folding a napkin. Peter and Mari exchange knowing glances but do not say anything. 

“He’s annoying,” Anthony says to Kalel, “I don’t like him.” 

She swats his arm and shakes her head. “Shut up,” she hisses between clenched teeth. “I don’t care how you feel about him, Ian likes him. A lot. And so do I, so you need to _shut your mouth_.”

Anthony scowls and folds his arms. “Whatever,” he spits, angry that she’s telling him what to do. 

“You’re behaving like a child,” Kalel says, growing red in the face. “Please stop it.” 

At that moment, Brian returns and Ian jumps up, grabbing his hand. “We gotta run,” he says far too quickly. 

Brian frowns. “Wha-”

Ian does not allow him to finish his query and instead drags him out of the restaurant. 

Kalel glares at Anthony as he smiles wider than he has all day.

*

 _It’s normal_ , Anthony thinks a few weeks later as Ian’s riding him hard and fast. _Perfectly normal._

Except it’s not. Ian is his best friend. His _male_ best friend. Not to mention, Anthony’s engaged to be married and Ian clearly loves him. Anthony knows that, he’s not dumb. 

He doesn’t totally understand why he does the things he does. It’s not that he just wants Ian for sex, but he also doesn’t want to be in a relationship with him. He loves Kalel, but…she doesn’t exactly fulfill the need that Ian can. And Ian’s more than willing (most of the time), so what does he have to lose? 

 _A lot, actually_ , he thinks, gritting his teeth and digging his fingernails into Ian’s hips. He groans as he looks up at Ian, his head thrown back, lips parted open, and eyes slightly shut. There are beads of sweat rolling down his face and _goddamn_ , _Ian is so hot_. He doesn’t feel this way when he has sex with Kalel and he feels somewhat guilty. 

He swears when he comes, roughly threading his fingers roughly into Ian’s light brown locks. He tugs and Ian comes, too, collapsing onto Anthony’s chest, his breathing rapid and strangled. He rests his forehead on Anthony’s heart and Anthony knows he can feel its pounding. 

“Get off,” he says before he can wrap his arms around Ian and cry. 

Ian looks up at him, a pleading look in his eyes, before he looks away, biting his lip. 

Anthony looks away, too, so that he doesn’t have to feel any more guilty. He flops onto his side, his back facing his best friend. He shuts his eyes and adjusts the blankets so that he’s covered and he hopes that he can go to sleep quickly. 

He doesn’t. 

Instead, he thinks about how as soon as they wrapped filming for the day, he yet again convinced Ian to stay with him. He’d grabbed the other boy’s shirt, lifting him up, licking into his mouth and shoving him against the front door. Ian’s head had hit the door loudly and Anthony had felt him wince in pain, but he’d ignored him, palming him through his jeans. He could have sworn he’d seen tears slipping down Ian’s face, but he pushed that thought out of his mind, squeezing his eyes closed once more. 

“Anthony,” a hesitant, quiet voice whispered from the other side of the bed. 

He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from sighing. “Yeah?” he asks, finally. 

Ian pauses and it’s silent between the two of them. Anthony almost starts to believe that Ian has lost his nerve and wont’t say what Anthony’s been afraid he’ll say. 

Apparently, the world is against him, though, because that is exactly what doesn’t happen. 

“Wh-what are doing?” Ian stammers. 

Anthony breathes out quickly before shrugging, still not daring to look at Ian. “What are you talking about?” He’s always been great at playing stupid. 

He can hear a small bite in Ian’s tone when replies, “you have Kalel…,” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “So why do you need me, too?” 

Before panic mode can set in deep, Anthony snorts. “I _don’t_ need you, Ian. You’re my best friend and that’s it.” 

He thinks Ian may give it up. He always gets nastier when Ian gets like this. He doesn’t mean to be. He honestly doesn’t want to hurt his feelings, but he also can’t deal with what they do. 

But then Ian says, “then…why do you always wanna fuck me when you come visit?” and Anthony wants to lose it. 

He wants to do one of two things: he wants to turn around and break Ian’s fucking nose for even suggesting some like that _or_ break the fuck down and admit to Ian, _yeah, I fucking love you, now kiss me and make it better._

He doesn’t do either of those things. He balls his hands into fists and grits his teeth and he stays silent for a long while. Finally, he spits, “We don’t talk about that, Ian.” Because, for fuck’s sake, Ian knows this. 

Ian must be feeling extremely brave — or extremely stupid — that night, because he presses on. “But Anthony, i-it’s not fair. I mean, I have genuine feelings. Fuck, I _love_ you. And we don’t talk about it?” 

Anthony rolls his eyes and sits up in the bed. He hadn’t wanted to be a complete asshole, but here it is, it’s happening. If only Ian would just _shut up_. “Shut the fuck up, Ian. You don’t love me. I don’t love you. That’s it.” 

He turns away from Ian, lying back down. He’s glad his back is facing Ian, because if it wasn’t, Ian might have seen his tears. 

*

After this, Anthony notices that Ian’s constantly got alcohol on his breath. He’s never too drunk to film, but he’s always buzzed, always loud, but never smiling. He wonders if Ian has become an alcoholic. This isn’t as concerning as the scars that appear all over his wrists and arms when they’re filming scenes in which Ian has to wear t-shirts. What’s _most_ concerning, however, is when they’re filming a scene for Food Battle and Ian has to jump into a pool shirtless. There is pink scar tissue on Ian’s chest that everyone else is ignoring, but Anthony can’t tear his eyes away from. 

His name is etched in Ian’s skin like a tattoo. 

Anthony hates himself, so he can’t understand why Ian could love him enough to do something so extreme. But he doesn’t ask Ian about it, he doesn’t tell him that he can help him. He does what everyone else does and ignores him.

*

“Anthony,” Kalel says one night, a serious look on her face. He knows that whatever’s happened isn’t good, but she isn’t angry with him. She looks more _sad_ than anything else. “We need to talk.” 

He sits down on their sofa and pulls Pip into his lap, sighing. “What about?” He’s not stupid; he knows what _‘we need to talk’_ means, but he’d prefer to ignore it. He’d prefer to not think about how he’s fucked up again. 

“Ian,” she says simply. 

He looks up at her, praying that she has not discovered his dirty little secret. He plays dumb again. 

“Wh-what about him?” he asks, biting his lip. 

She gives him a hard look. “You’re in love with him. And don’t try to say you’re not, because I _know_. I’ve _always_ known.” 

He shakes his head. “Babe, I’m…I love you. Fuck, I’m _engaged_ to marry _you_. A girl. I’m not gay.” 

She frowns. “I never said you were gay. I said you love Ian. You can love Ian and not be gay.” 

This concept has never crossed his mind before, but it doesn’t put him at ease. His heart sinks. “Kalel, no. I love _you_. I mean, yeah, I love Ian, but just as a friend.” 

She shakes her head. “It’s over, Anthony. I love you, but I can’t be second. And I think you have a lot of self-discovery left to do. I’ll stay with Evelina for a while and-”

“No!” he exclaims. “I’ll just fucking go. Since you think I’m gay and all, and I don’t love you, despite the fucking fact that I _proposed_ to you and all.” 

“Anthony,” she sighs, but she knows that it doesn’t matter what she says. He’s been gone from her for a while now. 

Anthony doesn’t pack a bag, doesn’t say goodbye to her or the cats, and storms out. 

*

He catches the next flight to Sacramento and even though it costs him a fucking arm and leg, he drinks the entire way there. He could have easily went and stayed with an LA friend, someone from Smosh Games, for sure. But, instead, he decides to go see Ian. He tells himself that it’s because this shit is all _his_ fault. If he wasn’t constantly fucking him, he wouldn’t have these stupid feelings. 

Then, in his drunken mind, he realized what he’s just thought. He’s been blaming Ian for everything for a long time when in reality, it’s all been his own damn fault. He’s been a shitty friend, a shitty fiancé, and just a shitty person all around. 

Anthony plans on telling Ian this, but when Ian opens up his door, he’s drunk and angry and sad, and instead, he says, “She th-thinks I love you.” He laughs and it sounds completely evil to him. He isn’t laughing because of what Kalel said, he’s laughing because he’s so completely empty on the inside. He’s supposed to have it all, but he really doesn’t. And because of this, he wants to make Ian feel bad, too. “I’m not a fucking faggot.” 

A normal person would have kicked Anthony out, but not Ian. Ian loved him too much and that’s why Anthony liked seeing him. Ian made him feel he was actually _worth_ something. 

But he also made him love him back, and that wasn’t okay. 

“I’m not like you, Ian. I don’t l-like guys that way. It’s sick.” 

This makes Ian cry, but he still doesn’t say anything. In a way, it’s comforting. It’s comforting to see that he’s not the only one completely broken. But it’s also tearing him apart, because _wow_ , _I’m the one that did this to Ian. He’s not even Ian anymore._

It breaks his heart to know that he did this and he wants it to stop. His vision is hazy as he grabs Ian’s shoulders. “Stop it!” he half yells, half slurs. 

Anthony already feels bad enough, without Ian’s tears adding to it. “Fucking stop!” 

In his mind, kissing Ian will make him stop crying. It will show Ian that he actually does love him, but he can’t tell him because he honestly cannot be gay and he’ll marry a girl one day (just not Kalel). In his mind, Ian kisses him back and hey, maybe they’ll fuck. 

Except, Ian doesn’t kiss him back. 

Anthony’s not used to rejection. He’s sused to rejecting Ian, sure. But Ian rejecting him? It infuriates him and hurts him and mortifies him. So, he punches him in the face. Ian falls to the floor and grips his cheek. For a moment, Anthony just stares, completely astonished with himself. He runs for the door and doesn't look back, completely disgusted. 

To be completely truthful, he wants to die. And as he finds when he goes back into the house, so does Ian. 

*

When he finds Ian, eyes shut with an empty bottle of pills, he panics. He completely breaks down, sobbing and shaking him, and just _praying_ that maybe he was okay. He just couldn’t live with the guilt. 

The doctors pump Ian’s stomach and check on him regularly. Anthony sits by his bedside, watching him sleep and cursing himself, cursing every little thing he’d ever done to Ian. He’s hooked to an IV and a machine is beeping, keeping his vitals in check. 

Anthony squeezes his hand, pressing his forehead against it. “Ian, please wake up. I’m so, so sorry. I…I promise I’ll never hurt you again.” He cries hard, his tears soaking Ian’s palm. 

Unfortunately for him, Ian sleeps for the rest of the night.

*

The next morning, he wakes to find Ian staring straight ahead with tired, blank eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Ian,” is the first thing he says. This time, it’s soft and quiet, not at all like last night. 

He doesn’t expect Ian to respond and isn’t surprised when he looks down at his lap. 

“I fucked up — a thousand times,” he admits. He bites his lip and waits for a reaction from Ian. He still doesn’t say anything. 

This hurts more than Ian yelling at him would have. 

“I’m…I’m a fucking idiot, Ian. I’m so sorry. I…,” he trails off. He shakes his head, unable to come up with something useful to say. He’s close to tears, but he doesn’t want Ian to know so. 

Finally, Ian says, “it’s okay.” 

This makes Anthony angry, too, because it’s not. It’s honestly terrible and Ian fucking knows it, but he’s too afraid to make Anthony angry again. 

And that hurts, too. 

“I’m a fucking idiot. I’m the worst best friend ever, the worst fiancé ever, the worst business partner ever…fuck, I’m just the worst person ever. Ian, you love me so much — and you shouldn’t. You’ve done so much for me and I use you…,” Anthony  trails off because this is the first time he’s ever completely admitted it to Ian. “And I’m sorry I called you a faggot, too. In reality, I really wanted to call myself one.” 

He notices Ian’s attention is piqued by the way his eyebrows raise and his pretty blue eyes grow wider. 

Anthony takes a deep breath, because what he’s about to say is really, really hard to admit and it gives him intense anxiety. He almost believes he’ll have a panic attack, even though he hasn’t had one in years. 

“Fuck, Ian. I love you, too. I always have. But there was Kalel and Smosh and my family and it…it was you. You’re my best friend. But I’ve always had these feelings for you, so when I figured out you loved me, too, I thought if we fucked just once, I could get it out of my system…but that only made me want you more. And you were willing to oblige, so I figured, why not? It only made things worse, though.” 

Anthony locks eyes with Ian, seeing complete shock written on his face. 

“I understand if you never want to speak to me again, especially considering I knew you were cutting and drinking and I didn’t do anything to help you. I was scared, I guess. And when Kalel broke up with me because she was convinced that I love you, I just snapped. I had absolutely no right in the world to put a hand on you like that and I…,” he finds now that he’s sobbing and he can no longer speak. Fuck, he’s been a terrible person. For God’s sake, his best fucking friend has been _hurting himself_ and he did nothing, absolutely nothing to help him. 

His sobs grow louder and louder and he cannot help himself. He’s crying harder than he’s ever cried in his entire life and he can’t stop. His chest literally feels like it’s splitting in two, almost like his soul is being ripped completely from his body. 

“I forgive you,” breaks Anthony from his sobs. A hand is placed lightly on his shoulder and he looks up, seeing Ian’s broken face. 

Shocked, Anthony squeaks, “y-you do?” 

And much to Anthony’s relief, Ian nods. “I do.” 

A cry of happiness escaped from Anthony’s throat and he beams at him through his tears. Gingerly, he takes Ian’s hand and squeezes it. “I’ll take care of you,” he promises. “I’ll never, ever hurt you again. _No one_ will ever hurt you again. I promise.” 

Anthony will keep his promise. He swears he will. 

He’ll even do it if it kills him. 


End file.
